He stood just over six feet tall with a lanky, athletic build and the kind of dark blond hair that boasts flashes of gold in the summer. I knew that his business interests were wide and varied and not always legal. And I knew that he carried an American Express Black card. He owned at least a dozen cars, but rarely drove them, preferring his Ducati motorcycle.
"You look lost."
I'd been glancing toward the entrance, but now I jerked my head to the left and found myself staring at a leggy brown-eyed blonde with hair so thick and shiny she could do shampoo commercials. She held out her hand, and I took it without thinking. "I'm Katrina Laron--Kat," she said, then hooked her thumb toward Angelina Raine. "I'm the bride's best friend, which makes me the pseudo-hostess. And you are?"
Her smile was polite, but held an edge, and I was certain that she knew damn well I'd crashed the party.
Great.
"Sloane O'Dell," I said, using my mother's maiden name and not my own last name of Watson.
"Who are you here with? I think I know everyone on Lina's side of the guest list, so you must be a friend of Evan's?" Again with the polite smile. Again with the protective edge.
"I'm actually looking for Tyler," I said, and prided myself on my ability to tell the truth and lie all at the same time.
"Oh, really?" Her brows lifted. "Friend or foe?"
"Excuse me?" I kept my expression casual and hoped that my naturally pale skin wasn't flushing.
"It's just that I know Tyler didn't bring a date, and if you're not one of Angie's or Evan's guests ..."
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"I took a chance," I said, once again relying on total honesty. "I think he'll want to see me." Okay, that part I wasn't nearly as sure about.
"Listen, I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but Tyler's a pretty private guy who attracts a lot of female attention." She shrugged. "You wanna tell me why you think he'll want to see you?"
"Not really, no."
She looked at me hard, obviously taking my measure. Then she snagged a glass of wine off a passing waiter's tray and took a long swallow "All right then. Let's go find him."
"I've been trying to do that all evening," I said wryly.
"He arrived just before I came over to politely inquire about your intentions. Hang on," she said as she lifted herself up onto her toes and waved across the room. "I see him."
I craned my neck, but as I was a good three inches shorter than Kat, I had absolutely no idea if she'd managed to catch his eye.
Time dragged, and I was beginning to think that he either hadn't seen her or had chosen to ignore her, when I saw the glint of gold as the light struck his hair. He wore a charcoal gray suit, and the fine lines and expensive material contrasted with the slightly mussed hair that he wore just a little too long for the corporate rule book. Now, it was tied back in a manner that highlighted the sharp angles of his cheeks and jawline.
His cerulean eyes were the perfect contrast to the golden blond hair, conjuring thoughts of sun and sand, wild days and wicked nights. All in all he had a devil-may-care look about him, and that was only accentuated by the beard stubble. My fingers twitched, and to my horror, I found myself wanting to reach out and stroke his cheek, letting the roughness there smooth away my hard edges like sandpaper.
He eased around the fountain and jockeyed through the crowd with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing that people will move out of your way because you're just that cool.
"Tyler!" Kat called again, and I had the unreasonable urge to clamp my hand over her mouth. This was the guy I'd come here to get close to, but right then, I didn't feel prepared at all.
I'd known before coming tonight that Tyler Sharp was among the finest of male specimens, but never in a million years would I have anticipated my own tingling, visceral reaction to the man.
I wanted to duck behind the pillar. I wanted to bolt. I wanted to find some sanctuary until I could get my head together and find my center. But that wasn't an option. He'd seen us, and though he nodded to Kat, I was the one who drew his focus. His eyes met mine, and the impact of that simple look ripped through me in a way that left me weak and confused. I'd never met Tyler Sharp--had seen him only in photographs, learned about him only from articles and from chatting up cops. But in that moment it felt as though I'd known him all my life.
I wasn't entirely sure I liked the feeling--or perhaps I just liked it too much.
He stopped in front of us, and I told myself to get it together. I was not the kind of woman who lost her cool around a gorgeous man. Or, at least, I hadn't been two minutes ago.
As he looked at me, his sensual mouth curved up in the manner of a man about to sample something delicious--and the something was me. I shivered, the unexpected thought making my body tingle in a way that caught me off guard, but that I couldn't deny liking.
It took one hell of an effort, but I straightened my shoulders and met his eyes coolly, determined to take back at least a modicum of control.
"Sloane was looking for you," Kat said. "She says you'll want to talk to her."
"Does she?" His attention stayed full on my face, and I thought for a moment that if I stepped closer, I would drown in those liquid eyes. "Funny," he said. "She's just the woman I want, too."
Chapter Two
She's just the woman I want, too.
His words wrapped around me, as enticing as a caress, and the control I'd been clutching scattered like so much dandelion fluff.
That moment of weakness passed quickly, though, shoved aside by years of police training and the deeply ingrained cynicism I'd lived with since childhood. Tyler Sharp was a con man and a womanizer and who knew what else. He knew how to flatter. How to entice. How to make a woman feel special and interesting and, yeah, just a little turned on. But no way had he really been looking for me. He'd been out of town for weeks, and I knew that he'd returned only this afternoon. So, no. I wasn't on his radar.
I told myself that was a good thing. If Tyler Sharp was going to be looking at me, I wanted him to see only what I was willing to reveal.
As if in answer to my thoughts, he glanced down, then drew his gaze over me, starting at my newly-painted pink toenails and moving so slowly up my body that it took all my willpower not to shiver. When his eyes once again reached mine, I almost gasped at the wicked fire I saw beneath the fierce arctic blue. A wild, penetrating flame that had the power to burn away my cover and leave me naked, all my secrets fully exposed to this man.
The thought should have angered me. At the very least, it should have worried me.
Instead, it excited me.
You're off your game, Sloane. Walk away. Just walk away, get your bearings, and kick off the op tomorrow.
Good advice, actually. And why wouldn't it be? I was a damn good cop, after all.
Apparently I was also a damn fool, because I had no intention of walking away. I wasn't entirely sure if I was sticking because of the mission or the man, but I told myself it didn't matter. That the little trill of sensual pleasure I felt low in my belly wasn't a weakness--it was an asset. This was a seduction, after all. A little sizzle and pop between us would only make the job easier. And a lot of sizzle and pop would make it a hell of a lot more fun.
Still, I owed either Tyler Sharp or my hormones a thank-you. Because my reaction to this man reminded me that I needed to be careful. Tyler Sharp was a dangerous breed, and though he might not know it yet, he and I were locked in a heated battle. One that I fully intended to win--even if that meant playing dirty.
Beside me, Kat shifted. The movement caught my attention, and I turned to see her watching Tyler.
He gave her the slightest of nods, and she cleared her throat. "Um, yeah, well, I'm just going to run and find Lina and give her and Evan another hug. Attend to my pseudo-hostess duties. Maybe cure cancer and solve that whole world peace problem. Hopefully you two will muddle along without me."
"I think we'll manage," Tyler said. "I promise to take good care of Sloan
e."
"Yeah," Kat said. "I just bet you will." She winked at me, then bopped away. I watched her get swallowed up by the crowd, grateful to have a moment to gather myself. When I turned back to Tyler, I saw that he hadn't taken the same opportunity. He was still focused entirely on me.
"Alone at last," he said.
I shifted my weight, not liking the way this man unnerved me. I was a detective, for Christ's sake. I ate suspects for breakfast, and my bad cop skills in interviews were worthy of an Academy Award. I'd never worked undercover, though, and I suddenly had all sorts of respect for my peers who put on the mask and held tight to their secrets.
Then again, I was no stranger to masks or secrets. I could do this. And as if to prove it to myself, I looked up at him through my lashes, hoping the effect was as sexy as I imagined. "Should I be nervous? A man like you looking for me."
"A man like me?" His voice was low. Enticing. "Interesting. So tell me--what am I like?"
I stepped closer to him, lifted my hand as if I was going to touch him, then pulled it back with a slightly embarrassed expression. "Tempting," I said, and though the word was calculated, it was also very true.
"Am I?" He looked pointedly at my hands. "And that makes you nervous?"
"That? No." I drew in a breath as I considered my next move and, as in chess, where that move would take me. "I'm pretty good at resisting temptation."
"Are you?" He leaned in, his mouth so close to my ear I felt the whisper of his breath on my hair. "I'm not. As far as I'm concerned, giving in to temptation is one of the few true pleasures in life."
Oh, my. A hot coil of desire twisted through me, making my skin flush and my knees go weak.
If he noticed my reaction, he said nothing. But he began to walk slowly around me, as a man in a museum might circle a statue.
I started to turn as well, tracking his movement. "No," he said, the command in his voice undeniable. "Stay still. Look forward."
I stopped, hesitated, then turned my head to look out at the party, at the people floating by in pretty dresses and elegant suits. With smiles and laughter and nothing on their minds except the quality of the wine and the rhythm of the band.
I told myself that my acquiescence was simply part of the game--he was a man who wanted control, I was the woman falling under his spell.
But it was more than that, and I damn well knew it. That flutter I felt in my belly wasn't the excitement of the chase, but the anticipation of his touch.
Yeah, Tyler Sharp was dangerous, all right.
He was behind me now, and though I could no longer see him, I felt his presence as firm and gentle as a kiss. My breath caught in my chest, and I realized that I was anticipating the brush of his fingertips upon the nape of my neck, then his hand on my bare back, exposed in the halter-style dress.
But the touch never came--and my breath never came easy.
When he spoke, his voice was low, as if too much volume would break the spell. "You're a riddle, Ms...."
"O'Dell," I whispered.
He was right there, but I couldn't see him. I could only breathe in the scent of him, fresh and woody, like a forest after a rain. Sexy, enticing, and undeniably male. "Sloane O'Dell," he said. "I like it."
"I like the way you say it." I kept my voice low and full of invitation.
"Do you?" he asked, as he finished the circle. "I'm very glad to hear it."
I looked at him, at that perfect face, and felt my fingers twitch with the desire to touch him, a desire that was magnified because I could see only too well that it was returned. Tyler Sharp wanted me, too. Maybe he was teasing me, playing me. Maybe he had an agenda. I didn't know. But my world centered around seeing--seeing people, seeing evidence, seeing the truth. And I saw the truth in the way Tyler's eyes were dilated. In the slightest flush of color on his skin. In the way that his pulse beat just a tad too quickly in his neck.
Yes, he wanted me--and yet there was no denying that he was playing with me, too. We were locked in a game, and though I'd initiated it, I couldn't claim to fully understand the rules.
I felt unanchored and slightly out of control. But at the same time, I felt more desperately alive than I had in a very long time.
With some effort, I managed to gather myself. "You never did say why you were looking for me."
"No. I didn't."
I couldn't help but grin. Forget chess; this was way more fun. "Am I supposed to guess?"
Instead of answering, he just smiled. Slow and easy and full of decadent promise. "Sloane," he said. Just a syllable. Just a name. But it was my name, and it seemed to drip with honey. I wanted to taste it. Taste him.
A shiver raced up my spine. My inner thighs felt warm, and my breasts strained against the bodice of my dress. It had been years since I'd had such a pronounced reaction to a man. He might be as dangerous as they come, but that was part of what made my job exciting--the more dangerous the quarry, the bigger the thrill.
Tyler took a step forward, and I took a corresponding step back, then one more just because I wanted to clear my head. I realized too late that he'd edged me back against the pillar. I might have been trying to escape, but there was no place to go, especially not when Tyler leaned forward, pressing his palm to the pillar just over my shoulder. He was right there, right in front of me, so close I could feel the air thickening from the pressure.
"Tyler." My voice was low, barely a whisper. "I don't think--"
"No," he said. "Don't think. Just wait. Just close your eyes."
I fought the urge to protest--this is what I wanted, after all. To get close to this man. To heat it up and see how far we could take it. No matter how out of control I might feel, I had to remember that this was my game, and though he might score a few points, I was the one who'd made up the rules.
"That's a good girl," he said, as I let my eyes flutter closed.
I concentrated on breathing, trying to ignore the way the tiny hairs on my arms stood up, a reaction to the electricity now swirling in the few inches that remained between us. He cupped my jaw with his free hand, then brushed his thumb lightly over my cheek. He was going to kiss me.
My mind was spinning so damn fast, reeling between excitement and wonder. He was a tool, a suspect, a criminal. Even so, I wanted this, and not because seduction was my endgame.
I simply wanted the man. Damn me to hell, I wanted him bad.
I felt the brush of his lips against my ear as he spoke. His voice was as soft and sensual as the kiss that I expected, but the words held the sting of a slap: "You shouldn't be here."
Ice burned in my veins, and I stood as tight and still as a statue.
He'd made me. Goddammit, how the hell had he made me?
But no. The "how" wasn't important. Now it was all about denial and damage control.
I allowed myself only a second to rein in my fear. I let confusion color my expression--not hard under the circumstances--then I opened my eyes. He'd stepped back, and I met his gaze boldly. I expected to see anger and accusation on his face. Instead, I saw warmth. "I--" I closed my mouth and regrouped. "What are you talking about?"
"You shouldn't be tucked away like this." He spoke simply, apparently oblivious to my discomfiture. "You should be the center of attention. See that flower arrangement?" he asked, nodding toward the stunning arrangement of flowers that dominated the center of the Palm Court. "You outshine it a thousandfold."
It was an utterly unoriginal line--not worthy of the man at all. I thought about telling him so, but considering my goal of getting close, insulting him probably shouldn't be my next move. Frankly, I was so flustered I wasn't sure what the next move should be. All I knew was that I'd gone on the defensive, and I needed to drop that before he noticed.
It took some concentration, but I managed to conjure a shy smile. "You're very sweet," I said. "And I'm very flattered."
For a moment, he said nothing, but I saw the inquisitive gleam in his eye along with the way his head tilted slightly, as if he was examin
ing something curious. "No," he finally said. "I don't think you're flattered at all."
"Excuse me?" I couldn't help the bite of temper in my voice, but it was directed at me, not at him. I should have gone for bold, not demure. Should have stepped forward instead of stepping back.
I'd miscalculated. And I didn't like to lose.
"You don't strike me as a woman who needs pretty words and flattery. I think you like a more direct approach." Once again, he closed the distance between us. Once again, the air shimmered with rising heat, this time fueled by the kind of danger that had the power to burn.
"Is that what you think?"
"It's what I know. It's who you are." He took hold of my wrist, the shock of his touch effectively silencing my lie. "Tell me why you were looking for me, Sloane. Tell me flat out."
I drew in a breath, buying time as I weighed my options and considered how to mix truth with lies. "I saw you," I finally said. "On the television, in magazines, in newspapers. You seemed powerful and a little mysterious."
"Always good to keep the press and the public guessing. It increases the mystique."
"Does it? Well, I guess it worked. I've thought about you, Tyler Sharp. You wouldn't leave my head. And I decided that I had to get close to you. I had to know if the living, breathing man was as interesting in person as he was in my fantasies."
I met his eyes. Made sure that he could see the heat in mine. "I wanted to get close. I wanted to see if you were the kind of man I wanted in my bed."
"And?"
"Now I've met you," I said as I gently pulled my arm free. But my smile was slow and easy and full of invitation.
And leaving that little bit of bait dangling, I slowly walked away.
Chapter Three
I managed to keep my back straight and add a nice little swish to my hips as I crossed the ballroom toward the ladies' room. I wasn't about to turn around and check, but I imagined that he was watching me go, and I couldn't falter. Not then. Not after taking the kind of chance I'd just taken.
The moment I was through the door of the restroom, though, I raced to the closest cubicle and locked myself in. As with everything at The Drake, even the bathroom was elegant, and my little stall was a far cry from typical. Instead of simply housing a toilet, there was a marble vanity, a sink, and an upholstered stool, upon which I gratefully sagged. I pressed my elbows to the counter, stared at my reflection, and sighed.